


Filthy

by starduster



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Watersports, like REALLY watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 05:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14098122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starduster/pseuds/starduster
Summary: Gerome has a fetish, and Inigo loves him very much.





	Filthy

**Author's Note:**

> this is gross lmao. BUT i know you kinky fuckers are out there.

There’s a pile of old polishing cloths and towels folded neatly at their side, having been snuck in under the guise of night.  Their bedrolls are folded and placed against the walls, leaving the dry ground available to suck up any excess that they can’t catch with the towels.  Gerome’s heart is hammering a painful beat against his ribcage; even as he watches Inigo undress a part of him wants to call the whole thing off.

The others have gone into a nearby town for a supply run; they’ll be gone for several hours, at least, and Inigo took the opportunity to volunteer himself and Gerome to guard the camp.  Lucina had just given him a knowing smile and an “of course!” There’s plenty of time for what they’ve planned and for the inevitable clean-up.

And so here they are, naked in Gerome’s tent with Inigo kneeling in front of him, smiling up at him with that look of such utter trust and love that makes Gerome’s heart beat a little faster every time he sees it.  Except now, the beating of his heart is accompanied by the desperate pulsing of his bladder. 

“Are you absolutely certain you’re alright with this?” Gerome asks for the fiftieth time, shimmying out of his own trousers and smallclothes.  The anxiety knots in his chest, a tiny voice from the depths of his brain whispering that  _ this  _ will be the thing that drives Inigo away from him: not the moodiness or the way he struggles with expressing intimacy, but the strange little kink that Inigo has volunteered to be part of.

The man in front of him just laughs quietly, reaching up to smooth his hands over the thick corded muscle of Gerome’s bare thighs.  “I feel like I should be asking you that at this point,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to Gerome’s soft cock. “If you’re not comfortable you can just go outside, then I can suck you off.”

Gerome swallows thickly, running one hand through Inigo’s wild hair.  “What did I do to deserve you?”

He gets a cheeky grin in return.  “You used that big fat cock of yours just right, I guess.”  His hands slide around and grasp Gerome’s asscheeks, squeezing gently.  “C’mon, big boy, you’ve been saving it up all day, it’d be a shame to waste it on the bushes in the woods.”

His bladder pulsing frantically, Gerome makes up his mind.  “Alright,” he murmurs, one hand slipping around his soft cock as he steps up closer to Inigo, close enough to see the flakes of gold in his chocolate brown eyes.  

Inigo is biting his lip, peering up at Gerome expectantly.  The first drops of piss hit his skin and trickle into a stream, sliding down between his pecs to drip onto his lap.  Inigo shuts his eyes and sighs, a small smile gracing his lips. “It’s really warm,” he murmurs, and Gerome doesn’t miss the way one of Inigo’s hands has slipped into his lap to start palming slowly at his cock.  His other hand slides up his chest, dripping with piss and slipping over to work at a nipple. His eyes blink open and he grins up at Gerome. “This is a lot hotter than I expected. How’s it for you up there, baby?”

If Gerome could summon enough breath from his lungs to respond he would, but he’s left breathless and speechless by the sight of his lover in front of him, dripping with piss, touching himself and telling Gerome just how much he likes it.  Instead he just sighs and strokes his dry hand across Inigo’s cheek, then angles his cock up just a bit further so the stream hits the dip of Inigo’s throat. He simply can’t believe-

And then Inigo’s hand is grasping him, tilting him further up until piss is hitting him square in the face, his cheeks and nose and forehead, dripping down into his open mouth.  The sound Gerome makes is akin to a squeak when Inigo finally dips forward and takes him into his mouth. In a panic his muscles clench, the stream stops. Inigo’s big eyes peer up at him, the creases of a smile in the corners urging him on, and Gerome groans and lets go again.  He’s pissing in Inigo’s mouth, in his  _ gods-damned mouth. _

Inigo swallows once but his nose wrinkles in disgust, so the next time he simply pulls back and spits.  Gerome lets the last of his piss out onto Inigo’s waiting tongue, and finally his bladder is empty, and the throbbing of his erection is quickly taking it’s place.  

“That,” Inigo murmurs, pushing to his feet and wrapping his sopping arms around Gerome’s shoulders, “was  _ way _ hotter than it had any right to be.”  He kisses him hard, and Gerome can taste the acidic tang of piss on his tongue.  His  _ own _ piss, that Inigo is practically feeding him, and if a man could possibly get any harder…

“T-thank you,” Gerome mumbles, hand slipping between them to grasp their cocks together and jerk them off slowly.  Inigo’s breath hitches against his lips at the touch, and he reaches out with a free hand to grab at one of the old blankets piled beside them, dropping it haphazardly behind them and guiding Gerome down onto it.  They slot together nicely, despite the clammyness of piss drying on Inigo’s skin and the dampness the blanket is soaking up, and Gerome finds himself nearly overwhelmed by it all. The smell, the feeling, the taste he can still taste on Inigo’s tongue--

His orgasm creeps up on him and consumes him, leaving him twitching in Inigo’s loving grip and groaning harshly into his hair, nails clawing down his back.  Inigo laughs quietly, though his breath is coming in labored huffs and he’s on the precipice of his own orgasm. “That’s it, that’s it,” he murmurs, sitting back on his knees and grabbing Gerome’s legs where they’re wrapped around his hips.  Gerome, chest heaving and muscles twitching, has enough sense left in him to pull his knees to his chest and squeeze his legs together tight, leaving a sweat-slick, tight spot for Inigo to slide back into. He knows Inigo has a weakness for his strong, thick thighs, likes fucking them when Gerome’s too worn out for anything else.

Inigo’s come smears his thighs and splatters his abs.  He keeps fucking into him in rabbitlike jerks till the last of the spasms fades away and he sits back and smoothes down Gerome’s legs.  

“Gerooome, I loooove you,” Inigo coos, flopping down beside him on the filthy blankets and snuggling up beside him.  Gerome rolls and slips an arm around his waist, presses a kiss to Inigo’s drying cheek. 

“I’m amazed you still do after that,” Gerome says softly, reaching for a towel to wipe them off.  They absolutely reek; a bath in the nearby creek is definitely in order before the others get back.  And towels will need to be rinsed and dried, put away before anyone notices anything’s amiss. 

Inigo accepts the offered towel and wipes away the drying cum and piss, pausing every once in a while to lean over and pepper kisses across Gerome’s tomato-red cheeks.  “I love you so much I swallowed your damn pee,” he teases, and Gerome swears if he could love a man any more than he does Inigo they’d have to be one hell of a man indeed.

 

Sitting naked on the bank of the creek, washed bodies and towels drying in the balmy summer evening air, Inigo laces his fingers tight with Gerome’s and presses kisses to the scarred knuckles.  

“You know,” he starts, in a tone that warns Gerome that the dancer is absolutely scheming, “You kind of got me turned on to this.”

Gerome eyes him suspiciously, noting the sly little grin on Inigo’s face.  “Did I, now?”

“Mm-hmm,” Inigo hums, sidling up closer to him and sliding his hand suggestively over a thigh.  “And I’m already planning my payback.”

 

It takes everything in his power not to make anyone think anything is amiss.  They're traveling for most of the day and the slow bumping and sliding in Minerva's saddle is jostling his straining bladder.  More than once he has peered down at the others on their horses, sees carefree Inigo waving jauntily up at him, not suffering  _ nearly  _ as much as Gerome.

But now they're camped outside of a town, and once again the two of them have volunteered to stay and guard camp.  Or at least Inigo did; Gerome has already retreated to his tent, fuming about and desperately attempting to keep from just giving up on their ridiculous kink for the sake of his poor bladder.  

 

As he watches the rest of the group head for the town gates, Inigo takes another long swig from his waterskin.  He's pleasantly full, enough to serve his own purposes. And Gerome, poor Gerome, is already close to bursting. Giving his horse a final pat on the rump, he clips the waterskin back to her harness and heads for the tent.

“ _ You, _ ” Gerome greets him, “are a gods-damned  _ bastard _ .” Inigo just smiles at him, a sinister curve to the corners of his lips.  He starts to shed his clothes, placing them carefully out of the way of their planned activities.  He watches from the corner of his vision at how Gerome squirms in discomfort as he sheds his own. “Can't believe I got you into this,” Gerome grumbles.

Inigo flashes another grin, this one of the more familiar sweet variety that always makes Gerome’s heart beat a little bit faster, makes his breath catch in his throat.  He steps close and kisses Gerome softly, his hands resting on the small of his back and pulling their bodies together. Every movement makes Gerome’s bladder ache and he shudders when their soft cocks brush against each other. 

“Are you still okay with it?” Inigo murmurs against his lips.  

“Yes,” Gerome responds quietly.  He’s been far more turned on by the thought of Inigo’s “punishment” for him than he’s let on, had never in his wildest and filthiest dreams thought this was ever something that Inigo would let him do to him.  “But we’d better skip the niceties, yeah? Or I’m going to burst and you’re not going to get to have any fun.”

 

Inigo is all lean muscle, not much bulk, but he’s still heavy on top of him on a day when Gerome’s bladder  _ isn’t _ full to bursting, but when it is he’s nearly unbearable.  Inigo is perched on his lower belly as Gerome lays on his back, rolling his hips slowly as he plays with his cock, other hand reaching behind him to fondle Gerome against the cleft of his ass.  Gerome wants to touch him everywhere, can’t settle on one place so his hands just pluck anxiously at the blanket beneath him. 

“You want it?” Inigo asks innocently.  His eyes are bright, the question sincere, but Gerome just flushes even harder at that hint of dominance and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Please don’t tease me,” he mutters.

Inigo sighs good-naturedly.  “Alright, alright.” He rises onto his knees.

It’s hot.  Gerome shudders as the stream drizzles onto his stomach, building pressure and painting his chest.  Inigo had said it was warm but he wasn’t expecting  _ hot _ .  His cock throbs, and he cracks open his eyes.  Inigo is absolutely a sight, cheeks flushed, his dick half-hard and his piss a steady clear stream.   

“You like that?” Inigo’s eyes are bright and eager but he almost sounds a little hesitant, as if after everything they’ve been through together, this small intimate act could be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.  Gerome musters a moan - he doesn’t like to moan, struggles to make noise during sex, but he knows Inigo likes it - and thrusts his hips, desperate to make contact. He lifts his hands and smooths them over the firm muscle of Inigo’s thighs.  

“It’s incredible,” he finally manages as Inigo’s stream peters off.   Inigo settles back on his stomach and leans down to kiss Gerome tenderly.  His hands run through the wet mess in the valleys of Gerome’s abdomen. 

Though his heart hammers frantically against his ribcage and he hardly feels like he can breathe, Gerome forces himself to slow down.  He wants nothing more than to push Inigo to the floor and fuck him senseless but he doesn’t to ruin this for him, for both of them. So instead he reaches for their little jar of lubricant and fingers Inigo open slow and steady.  Inigo hefts a leg up to give him better access and ruts against him, murmuring endearments and praise. Gerome’s arousal slowly burns down and his hardness wanes. 

He gently pushes Inigo away as he sits up, cheeks aflame at the mere thought of what’s to come.  “Get on your hands and knees,” he says, heart fluttering at the way Inigo’s face lights up with excitement.  As Inigo settles into position Gerome finds he can't help himself and bends down to lick at his partner’s clenching hole, silently delighting at the little gasp it draws from Inigo.  He himself may struggle to be noisy during love-making but Inigo has absolutely no problem, and every moan and gasp and cry is like music to Gerome’s ears. He indulges himself a moment, letting his tongue work over Inigo’s relaxed, eager asshole as he reaches beneath him and jerks him off slowly.

“Fucking…  _ gods _ , baby, please, I just want you to--” He drops his face against his forearms and makes a frustrated noise, pushing back desperately against Gerome's face despite his pleas to the contrary.  

Gerome straightens up and delivers a firm smack to Inigo's ass, and he's a little relieved to hear the delight in Inigo's shocked gasp.  “You ready?” he pants out.

“Yes, yes, yes, give it to me, baby, please…” Inigo peers back over his shoulder, face a brighter red than Gerome's ever seen it, lips wet and kiss-swollen, eyes dark with desire.  So Gerome works himself in, only half hard but enough to make Inigo moan. 

He gives a few slow rolls of hips, but his bladder aches and urges him along.  He holds Inigo tight to him with an arm around his midsection and finally,  _ finally _ lets himself go.  

Inigo goes perfectly still for the first few moments, mouth agape and muscles tense.  He had expected it to feel like someone coming inside him but it's so  _ different _ , hot and full and with a certain discomfort that isn't entirely unwelcome.  “Oh, fuuuuuuck,” he groans, nearly a whisper, as Gerome rolls his hips and fills him with piss even deeper.  “Gerome, oh holy gods…” 

Gerome's mind is blissfully blank with relief, so consumed with the hot wet tightness of Inigo's ass and the blessed emptying of his bladder.  He has enough of a mind to finally pull out, and he finds himself mesmerized by the way the piss splurts out of Inigo's hole, runs down his taint and streams onto the blanket beneath them.  Inigo is still babbling praises and moans, jerking himself off fast and hard, and his voice cracks into a moan when Gerome's piss hits his back and runs down his spine in hot rivers. 

“Gods, Inigo, you're so fucking incredible, so wonderful,” Gerome moans, and as he feels himself nearly empty he pushes back in and thrusts hard.  

Inigo flings a hand back for him, grasping aimlessly until Gerome seizes it and presses their joined hands to the blanket.  “I love you, I love you, Gerome,” Inigo babbles. “Gonna come, gonna come--” He comes with a shudder and an aborted moan, huffing and puffing as Gerome fucks him through it.  

He doesn't last much longer, so keyed up from the sheer hotness of the act and the teasing all day, and if his brain weren't completely fried with arousal he'd probably be embarrassed at how fast he comes.  He pulls out and comes in long, shuddering spurts, adding to the mess already covering Inigo's back. 

There's long moment of stillness and quiet between them, before Inigo finally huffs out a “phew!” and flops down onto the blanket.  Sitting back on his heels, Gerome watches in tired amusement as Inigo quickly recoils from the cold wetness of the soaked blanket, than scrambles over to sit beside him on the dryer portion.  Gerome extends an arm and Inigo slithers up to his side, and together they sit in warm bliss for a few moments.

“That was pretty awesome,” Inigo finally says.  “I feel nasty now, though.” 

Gerome buries his face in Inigo's sweaty hair and hums agreement.  “We need a hot bath. Several of them.” He sighs in contentment. “I love you, Inigo.  So, so much.” 

Inigo smiles and kisses him tenderly, and despite all the piss and come and fluid covering them Gerome thinks he would be happy to sit here cuddled up with Inigo for the rest of the night, if not the rest of his life.


End file.
